Because It Is My Blood Page 12

  “No, no, no,” Abuela said upon seeing me, just before she covered the counter with her arms. I could tell it was meant as a joke, so I wasn’t offended.

  “I won’t look,” I promised.

  Then, as often happened, Abuela said something I couldn’t understand in Spanish though I did catch my name. (As she pronounced it, Ahhn-juh.) A second later, Theo stormed out.

  “Theo,” Luz yelled. “Come back, bebé! Abuela was only joking!” Luz turned to her mother. “Mama, you shouldn’t tease him like that!”

  “What?” I asked. “What just happened?”

  “No es nada, Anya. Grandma had a little fun at Theo’s expense,” Luna explained.

  “I heard my name,” I insisted.

  Castillo sighed. “Abuela said that Anya can have the recipe when she becomes a member of the family.”

  I looked at Abuela. She shrugged, as if to say What can I do? Then she began furiously whisking whatever was in the pot.

  I told them that I’d go talk to him.

  I went out to the living room. He wasn’t there, so I took a flashlight and went outside to the orchard, which was Theo’s favorite place. Though it was dark, I knew he would be there and he was, machete in hand, checking his beloved cacao trees for signs of mold.

  “Theo,” I called.

  “Just because the season is mainly over, you can never stop watching the crops, Anya. Hold that flashlight over here, would you?”

  I redirected my beam toward him.

  “Look here. Monilia. Unbelievable!” Theo hacked away at the baby pod. The incision was not clean. Had it been my cut, Theo would have done it again.

  “Here,” I said, taking the machete from him. “Let me.” I swung the machete.

  “Not bad,” Theo admitted.

  “Theo—” I began, but he interrupted.

  “Listen, Anya, they are wrong. I don’t love you.” He paused. “I just hate them.”

  I asked him who he meant.

  “My family,” he said. “All of them.”

  I wondered how he could hate them. They had been so wonderful and kind to me.

  “It is torture living in a house of women! They are a bunch of silly old gossips. And I can’t escape them. Ever since I was born, they expect me to run this place. Even my name, Anya. They expect me to do all these things, but they never ask. No one asks. I don’t love you, no.”

  “So you said,” I joked.

  “No, no, I do like you very much. But ever since you came here … I am jealous of you! I would like to see something other than this farm in Chiapas and those factories in Oaxaca and Tabasco. I want to be like you and not know what I am going to do next.”

  “Theo, I love it here.”

  “No, it is only fun for you because you don’t have to be here forever. I’d like not to see the same people every day for the rest of my life. They think I love you and in some way, I guess I do. I am happy to know someone like you. I am happy to know someone who thinks I am knowledgeable and who doesn’t talk like me and who hasn’t known me since I was in short pants. And maybe I do love you, if love means that I dread the day you’ll leave. Because I know my world will feel so much smaller again.”

  “Theo, I love it here … And this place, your family, have been incredibly good to me. Where I came from … It’s not what you think. I didn’t have a choice. I had to leave.”

  Theo looked at me. “What do you mean?”

  “I wish I could explain, but I can’t.”

  “I tell you all my secrets and you tell me none of yours. Do you not think you can trust me?”

  I considered this. I did trust him. I decided to tell him part of my story. First, I made him promise never to speak of this to anyone in his family.

  “I am like a safe.”

  “A pretty noisy safe,” I said.

  “No, you know me, Anya. I only talk nonsense. Nothing important ever comes out of these lips.”

  “You say you are jealous of me, but I swear, Theo, I have far more reason to be jealous of you.” I told him about my father and mother being killed and my older brother being hurt and on the lam (I decided not to mention that I, too, was on the lam) and my grandmother dying last year and how the only one left was my baby sister and it was basically killing me that I couldn’t be with her every hour of every day. “I only wish I had the problems you have.”

  Theo nodded. His eyes and the set of his jaw told me that he wanted to ask follow-up questions, but he didn’t. Instead, he was quiet for a long time. “You have done it again—made me feel like a foolish, stupid thing.” He took my hand and grinned at me. “You are going to stay through the next harvest, aren’t you? There’s so much more I could teach you. And I like having someone to talk to.”

  “Yes.” Of course I was staying through the next harvest. I was every bit as stuck as Theo, if not more so. I would stay here until I got word that I could go back to New York or until the Marquezes wouldn’t have me anymore, whichever came first.

  VIII

  I RECEIVE AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR WITH AN UNEXPECTED REQUEST

  DESPITE THE FACT that I was more or less a good Catholic girl, most of my life I have hated Christmas. Not the Christ-being-born-in-a-manger bit, but the holiday itself. At first, I hated it because my mother was dead, and it was awful to spend Christmas without my mother. Once my father died, the hate grew into a true abhorrence, though. This was followed by a brief period when Christmas became only mildly loathsome to me because of all the efforts Nana made. Among other things, she’d take us to see the Rockettes (Oh yes, there were still Rockettes; there will always be Rockettes!) and then she’d make fun of the dancing ladies and slip us orange slices and macaroons. After Nana got sick, of course, those traditions stopped, and I returned to hating Christmas as usual. This was the first Christmas since Nana had died, and my thoughts were with Natty in New York. I could only hope that Scarlet, Win, and Imogen were making things bearable for my sister.

  Christmas at Granja Mañana was a serious business. Food was prepared for days. Whatever space could be decorated with a bow or flower or nativity was. The Marquez chocolate factory even made Advent calendars with miniature chocolate figurines inside: a lamb, a heart, a snowman, a sombrero, an egg, a cacao pod, etc. The calendars would have delighted Natty, and how I wished I could have sent her one.

  Because they were a large family, the Marquezes played Secret Santa—that way, each person only had to buy one present. I had drawn Luna’s name. I bought her a set of paints I had seen when Theo and I had stopped for lunch in Puerto Escondido. Theo had insisted that he pay me something for all the work I had done. Initially, I had refused but I was glad to have the money so that I could buy Luna a gift. I would pay Theo back as soon as I could.

  On Christmas Eve, Isabelle, the eldest Marquez sibling, arrived from Mexico City with her husband. She was very beautiful, tall and severe with a long nose. She looked like a painting of an angel, which is to say powerful and potentially wrathful. I could tell she didn’t like me. “Mother, who is she?” I heard her ask Luz in Spanish. My Spanish was improving, and though I couldn’t say everything I wanted to say, my comprehension was getting decent.

  “Anya. She’s come to learn cacao farming. She is friends with your cousin Sophia,” Luz replied.

  “Ugh, Sophia. I wouldn’t like anyone on that girl’s recommendation. Why is this Anya person here for Christmas, Mama? Doesn’t she have any people of her own?” Isabelle asked.

  “She is staying with us through the next harvest,” Luz said. “She is a very nice girl. Your siblings are fond of her. Give her a chance, my darling.”

  At night, we went to Midnight Mass. The service was in Spanish, but otherwise, it wasn’t that different from being in New York.

  Finally, it was Christmas morning, and we exchanged our gifts. Luna loved the paint set, as I knew she would. The thing I didn’t know about the Marquezes and Secret Santa was that everyone cheated and ended up buying gifts for one another anyway. Though I h
ad only bought for Luna, I received gifts from all the Marquezes (except Isabelle, of course): a blank recipe book from the abuelas, a sun hat from Luz, a red skirt from Luna, and my favorite, a machete from Theo. The machete was lightweight, but still solid, and had ANYA B. carved into the brown leather–covered handle. “I did the carving myself,” Theo apologized. “I couldn’t fit your last name. And I’ll need to sharpen it before you use it the first time.” I kissed him on the cheek and told him it was perfect.

  In the evening, Isabelle left to go back to Mexico City. “Well, I will probably not be seeing you ever again in my life,” Isabelle said just before she kissed me on both my cheeks. Those kisses felt like nothing so much as an order to leave. I wondered if enough time had passed that I could try to contact Simon Green.

  All in all, it had been a beautiful Christmas. It was only at night in my bed that I began to feel lonely. Maybe I even cried a little, but if I did, it was very softly and I doubt that anyone heard.

  * * *

  The next morning, I decided to sleep in. I wasn’t needed in the orchard or anywhere else. I was still sleeping when Luna knocked on my door. “Anya, there’s a man downstairs who says he knows you.”

  My heart started to beat violently in my chest. Could it be Win?

  But then again, what if it was Win’s father? Or emissaries of Win’s father, come to take me back to Liberty?

  “A young man or an old man?” I tried to control the quaver in my voice.

  “Young. Definitely young,” she replied. “And very handsome.”

  I threw on the red skirt Luna had gotten me for Christmas as I hadn’t bothered to put it away yet. I put on a white blouse and then a leather belt. I slipped my new machete into my belt, just in case, and then I threw a sweater on over that. I left my bedroom and went downstairs, loosely gripping the handle of my machete.

  Yuji Ono stood by the door. Instead of his usual suit, he was wearing tan pants and a lightweight black sweater.

  “Surprise!” Luna said.

  I looked from Yuji to Luna. “You know Yuji?”

  “Of course I do,” Luna said. “He was engaged to Cousin Sophia before she married someone else. Yuji said that the three of you went to school together. Though Anya must have been a class or two behind you, right, Yuji?”

  “Or three even,” Yuji said. “Anya.” He examined me from head to toe, then he offered me his hand to shake. “You are looking well.”

  I was grateful to see a familiar face. I pulled him in to me and I kissed him, though that wasn’t something the two of us usually did. I could feel him react to the handle of my machete as it pushed into his thigh, and I pulled away. “How long are you staying?” I asked.

  “Two days at most. I am considering switching my cacao supplier, and I thought I should come here to see the Marquezes’ farms and factories before I made a decision. Though it is the day after Christmas, Ms. Marquez and her son were kind enough to meet with me this morning. I am an old friend of the family, as Luna mentioned, and I imposed upon the relationship, I am afraid. Imagine my surprise to find that my old classmate Anya Barnum was staying with the Marquezes.

  “Theo said you might be good enough to give me a tour of the cacao orchard. He says you know nearly as much about the subject as he.”

  “He flatters me,” I demurred. “I’m barely a beginner.”

  We left Luna back at the house, and I led Yuji into the cacao orchard.

  “I told you I would come,” he whispered.

  “School friends, eh?”

  “It seemed the simplest explanation.”

  “How is everyone?” I asked. “I haven’t heard anything!”

  “More of that soon, Anya. I’ve brought you a Christmas present, one I think you will most like.”

  I didn’t care about Christmas presents. I just wanted news.

  “How is my sister?”

  “Well, as far as I know.”

  “And my brother?”

  “He”—Yuji paused—“is good.”

  “You hesitated. Why?”

  “There’s a story, Anya. I will tell it to you in a moment. But Leo is not in danger, if that’s what you fear.”

  “Is something the matter with Leo?” I could see no one in the orchard and so I felt safe to yell.

  “Your brother, it seems, has fallen in love.”

  Leo was supposed to be staying with monks. Who could he have fallen in love with there? “Who is she, Yuji?”

  “She is no one. A fishing-village girl, I’m told. The family is not opposed to the match if the relationship should progress.”

  I considered this. “And the girl doesn’t mind his deficit?”

  “No. I am not sure she even knows that he has one.”

  I spotted a bit of mold on a cacao pod. I took my machete out of my belt and I sliced off the infected pod. “Pod rot,” I explained.

  “I’ve never liked you better, Anya Balanchine,” Yuji said to me.

  I had not heard my real name in months and it sounded almost foreign to my ears. I sat down in the grass and leaned against the trunk of a tree.

  “Say you are happy to see me,” Yuji ordered.

  “Of course I am happy to see you.”

  “Tell me about your journey here. I want to know everything. Besides, surely I will see your family again and they will crave news of you.”

  And so I told him about the container on the cargo ship and the loss of my hair and learning how to grow cacao and about all the Marquezes and especially Theo.

  Yuji listened quietly. “You once told me that you hated chocolate. Do you still?”

  “No, Yuji. Not anymore.” Being here had changed me. I could feel it.

  “And Win Delacroix? Do you think of him very much?”

  The truth was, I hadn’t—not because I didn’t love him, but because I couldn’t bear the thought of him. Still, the person my heart had raced for that very morning was Win. “I don’t want to talk about Win,” I said.

  “Do you remember that I told you I would need a favor from you someday?” Yuji asked.

  I nodded. How could I forget? It had been the night I had asked him to harbor my brother in Japan.

  “Well, the time has come.”

  I did not hesitate to ask him what he needed.

  He took my hand. “I want you to marry me.”

  “Yuji, I-I-I-I,” I sputtered. “I can’t marry you. I’m seventeen. I can’t marry anyone!” As I shuffled to my feet, I dropped my machete. Yuji bent down to pick it up.

  “No,” I said. “I’ll get it myself.”

  “I know you are only seventeen. That is why we don’t have to marry yet. You only have to become engaged to me.”

  “Yuji, but I don’t love you.”

  “I don’t love you either. But we must be married. Don’t you see? It is the only way to secure Balanchine Chocolate. If I am to be your husband, I can help you organize the business and protect both our interests.

  “I have put a great deal of thought into this matter. Originally, I hadn’t known what I would do after the Balanchine poisoning incident. Should I eliminate Balanchine Chocolate entirely? Should I watch and wait for it to destroy itself? Or should I intervene? I believe I told you as much.”

  He hadn’t said it quite so bluntly at the time.

  “But then once I met you at the wedding, I thought, ‘There is another way. This girl is formidable. She might have the makings of a good leader. How much better would it be for me to join interests with this person and have the potential to make both our companies bigger and better?’ I began to formulate a plan.”

  “A plan to marry me?”

  “No. At first, I thought I could just partner you with Mickey, that the two of you together might be enough to stabilize Balanchine Chocolate once his father died. But for many reasons, this plan was a failure. I am not blaming you, Anya. You were occupied with your boyfriend and your schooling and your legal troubles. Your obligations, I suppose. You are very young. And Mickey
is older, but he is too much in his father’s pocket. It was too much to ask of you.” He paused. “Since you’ve been gone, you should know that the infighting among the Balanchines has only escalated.”

  “Why?”

  “Who can say? The election of the new district attorney? The wails of the legalize-cacao people? Whatever the reason, the rank and file at Balanchine Chocolate are angry. My point is, Anya, the only way I can intervene is if I have the authority to do so. If I am to be the husband of Anya Balanchine, I will have that authority.”

  “What difference do I make, Yuji?” I asked. “I’m an outsider and now a fugitive. No one cares about me.”

  “That isn’t true. You know very well that that isn’t true. You are still the heir to Balanchine Chocolate. And, because of your notoriety, yours is the face people see when they think of Balanchine Chocolate.” He took my hand, but I pulled it back.

  Every kind word he’d ever said to me and every good deed he’d ever done for me, I questioned. I wondered whether I’d just been groomed, whether his plan had been to use me to gain control of Balanchine Chocolate.

  And yet …

  It could not be denied that I was in debt to him. He had helped my brother when I needed to get him out of the country and Yuji had, in part, done the same for me. How much was this worth? Or rather, how much did I owe?

  “Yuji,” I asked, “what happens if I refuse you?”

  Yuji cupped his hand over his chin. “I would rather you did not.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  “No, Anya. I … Perhaps I have gone about this the wrong way. I should have started by saying how much I admire you and how much I see in you that I think is worthy of respect. If I don’t say ‘love,’ perhaps this is because I don’t think love is all that important.”